Daughter
by Starlight River of Dreams
Summary: He saw, through all her anger, the raw terror there, the haunting devastation of an unloved child.


He sits on the roof of Jade Palace, blue eyes staring blankly at the peaceful village that lies before him. Waiting. Waiting like he had been waiting for days.

A shadow is cast over him and he raises his gaze slowly, wearily. Moonlight gleams on the figure's pale feathers as it lands silently on the bricks beside him. Its silence smothers the hope that had flared within him at its appearance, but he has to ask.

"Any…" his voice rasps, and he inhales sharply, struggling to sound normal. "Anything?"

The figure lowers its head before he even finished his short question, and its eyes closes. Then it shook its head, briefly, a jerk. "I… I'm sorry, Master."

He only nods, an instinctive response.

"Thanks, Crane. For trying." The lifelessness in his voice would attract the attention of any creature who knows him. It is not normal; it is not right. Crane throws a glance at him, a glance filled with more empathy than sympathy.

.

She had been unconscious for six days. Six days and eleven hours. The old master limps to her side, Oogway's wooden staff tapping the floor with every step he takes. He stops when he reaches the edge of the bed, gazing silently down at her face. Her eyes are closed, the fire that burned in her crimson orbs hidden behind her eyelids. Her eyebrows are drawn together slightly, her expression still hardened with determination even when she is barely connected with the living world. He lets his gaze trail down the familiar black stripes that stretch across her blazing fur, branding her image into his memory.

He doesn't remember the last time he looked at her like that, without the restraint of expressing any care whatsoever.

.

He had adopted her when she was seven. He still remembers the pitiful cub curled up in a dark corner of a destructed room, snapping at him to stay away; the cub who had been convinced that she was a monster. He still remembers how she had demonstrated her uncontrollable strength to him, her lips curled up slightly in a growl as she crushed a broken leg of the shattered chair. He still remembers looking into her scarlet eyes, seeing, through all her anger, the raw terror there, the haunting devastation of an unloved child.

He had known at that moment that she was his daughter.

.

He remembers the weight of the many tiles hidden in his clothes as his visits become more and more frequent, remembers the worn sign that greets him whenever he enters her place of residence:

_Bao Gu Orphanage._

He had grown to hate that sign, hate the nervous pathetic matrons and the taunting ignorant children. They had no right to prejudice his daughter.

Tigress was what he called her. Strong, powerful Tigress. The name for the extraordinary warrior that she would grow to be.

_Tigress_.

.

Her strength was her weakness; her inability to control herself clearly an ultimate downfall. So it was his duty to correct her.

He spent many hours sitting on the cold stone floor of her room, arranging and rearranging patterns with nimble fingers. Tigress watched with fresh interest, her eyes shining with fascination as he sets each tile down quickly and carefully. He pretended not to notice her, forcing his ears to stay still when they picked up the rustling sound as the cub moves from the corner to the dominoes. Only when she raised a paw hesitantly did he look up.

He held out a domino to her, a silent offer. Her gaze flickered to the wooden tile in his hand, her eyes narrowed in a clear display of wariness. He simply looked at her, his eyes fixed unwaveringly upon hers. He did not smile or frown; looked at her without a hint of the unfamiliar fear that was twisting inside him. He feared that she will turn away, that she would draw back, that she would snarl at him.

He feared that he would lose a second child.

But Tigress accepted the offer without a word, reaching a paw out to the domino. As she looked up at him, he saw the wonder shining in her eyes, the tentative warmth as she touched his hand.

They were both cautious, both nervous. Neither of them knew how to handle this. But they would try.

They would try.

.

She improved. The dominoes no longer crumbled like dust in her grasp, she no longer split a tile in half as she attempted to set each one down on the floor. Most of all, she no longer growled with frustration at each fruitless try.

Shifu watched from the side as she eagerly showed off her new skill. She glanced at him, trembling with anticipation, as she placed the blocks in a simple yet intricate pattern. She stepped back as she set down the last tile, standing erectly as he had taught her to do. He nodded once, before stretching out a finger to tip the first domino. The sound of the falling dominoes rose in a sea of clicks and clacks, and they both watched as her work blossomed out in front of them.

.

"Father, I want to show you something."

Her request broke the familiar silence that stretched between them. Shifu turned his head to see Tigress's eyes brimming with excitement, and there was a twinge of something within him.

"Very well." he assented.

Tigress arranged the dominoes quietly and efficiently, but Shifu's sharp eyes caught a slight tremble in her paw as she placed each block on the floor. He remained silent, biting back a reprimand.

_Give her one chance._

He could see the dominoes flowering into the pattern of a lotus flower, and he waited patiently as she set down the tiles for the last petal. He could almost feel the feverish anticipation flowing off her.

Suddenly, her paw slipped and crashed into the neighboring curve of dominoes. And with that, her design fell apart, falling flat onto the stone ungracefully. They both stared as the lotus flower crumbled into ruins, a mess of overlapping dominoes.

There was a heavy pause, a silence that stifled their senses and filled their minds. Neither dared to breathe.

Tigress flashed a glance at him, and without looking, he knew that her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

_It's alright. Everyone makes mistakes. Come on, try again._

That was what he thought, but he stopped the idea before it could form in his throat. That was the mistake he had made before, the constant reassurance and the inflation of pride. He would not make the same mistake again.

The word came out harsher than he intended it to be.

"Again."

.

She never asked to show him a pattern again, but he noticed the steely resolution that was imprinted on her features. She was desperate to show him that she could do it.

He found himself on the stone floor again, waiting for her to finish her new pattern. It was something he had never seen her do before, a circle of some sorts. She was almost a master at dominoes now; she can control the tiles perfectly. He wondered if his silent reproach had any influence over this rapid progress.

_Click._

The final domino was in place. Tigress grinned proudly at him – there was a slight restraint in her smile, a guarded caution that twists his heart – as she reached out a paw to touch the first tile.

The dominoes fell, and her masterpiece revealed itself as a perfect symbol of Yin and Yang.

.

The day he officially adopted her should've been one of the happiest days of his life.

He was delighted, of course, to have Tigress known as his foster daughter, but it was shadowed with fear. Tigress was so terrifyingly similar to his first child; she had the same fiery determination, the same feline pride, the same overpowering strength – if not more. He feared that she would travel down the same path as his son.

So he hid all his emotions, hid it behind a stoic face that he had learnt to perfect. Even as he saw the stunned expression on her face turn into one of euphoria, he kept his own face stony and expressionless.

_It's for the best._ He had convinced himself as he led young Tigress to her new home.

_It's for the best._

.

He offers no praises or condolences this time. It is training, training and discipline. He does not give her pride a chance to stray into darkness, does not let her ambition rise like his son's did. He had been blind with love and pride the first time; he would not be blind again.

It is ironic, really.

His determination of steering Tigress away from one path had led them on another painful road. But he had ignored how she looks at the ground whenever he scolds her, ignored how her paws would often be bound in bandages after hours and hours of severe training, ignored the times he glimpsed into her eyes and sees the pain of shattered dreams and crushed hopes and always, _always_, that deep, deep longing for what only parents can give. He ignored all of it, because he fears the alternate. And it is this fear that had destroyed the bond between them.

In the end, he was blind again.

.

He balances on top of Oogway's staff, watching as her chest heaves and falls with every slow, steady breath.

Why is it that he always needed a tragedy to open his eyes?

He lowers his head until he is staring at the floor directly beneath him. Although he is not looking at Tigress, her presence screams at him.

"I'm sorry."

He whispers this to the ground, for he cannot bring himself to look at her. He does not deserve to look at his daughter after how he had treated her all those years.

_His daughter._

If she is his daughter, then he is her father. He smiles bitterly at himself. Father. He had failed at parenthood, twice over. He is not a father. He is a mentor.

That is all he is – a mentor. A teacher. He trains students, molds them into outstanding masters. He had taught a few of the most powerful Kung Fu masters in history, Tigress included. He is an instructor, not a father.

Never a father.

It is his fault – he knows it is. Tigress had done nothing but strive to do the best she can, and more. She carried out every order to the extent of her capability, without once questioning them. She toiled away at her training, struggling through hour after hour of agony and frustration, never once giving up. And training after hours as well, when he finally allowed her to rest. She had done nothing but deserve everything he had to give her.

But he never gave her anything.

He raises his gaze, and as her face moves back into his field of vision, he has a sudden urge to protect her. To protect her from all the evils in the world, all the cruelty and pain. The last time he had felt that was when he watched his son leap at the Dragon Warrior, fallen and helpless. He had wanted to protect his child from the darkness that had infected him, and he had been unable to do so.

And he had been unable to protect Tigress from his own cold indifference.

"I'm sorry." He repeats, and this time, he forces himself to look at his daughter. She deserves to know that much. He wants to tell her that he loves her, that he had always loved her. That through all his icy reproaches, he had always been proud of her. She is his daughter.

But he cannot say it; the words are trapped in his throat. He swallows, and tries again. But it is no use. He rages inwardly for not being strong enough to even tell his daughter a few simple words.

He stares at her for a while longer, lips slightly parted, trembling in midair. Her pained eyes suddenly flashes in front of his eyes, the sight of her crimson eyes begging silently for something he would not (_cannot_) give her. He draws in a sharp breath as it hit his soul with deadly precision, the sharp arrow of the memory piercing somewhere deeper within him that he thought is possible.

Then he flicks his ears, shaking away the image, and leaps off the staff in one fluid motion, landing silently near her head. Raising one hand, he hesitates, hovering over his daughter. Suddenly, he reaches out and pats her head, once.

_My daughter._

He sighs, withdrawing his hand. He has made enough mistakes; inflicted enough wounds on both of them. Now, there is nothing left to do but to try and compensate for it.

He gives her one more regretful look, before limping out of the room.

_My daughter._

**A/N: I'm back! That's about it, really. I finally have enough time and inspiration to write something and complete it. I hope I haven't gone rusty.**

**Oh, and if you're wondering which side of this father/daughter issue between Shifu and Tigress I am on, I don't know. I've written from both perspectives, so it's really up to you to decide.**


End file.
